Identity Tag
by serpensortia1
Summary: Anyone can be a beast when the moon is not full.' Slash. JPRL.


**Identity Tag**

Remus' hands were cold. I hadn't expected his fingers to be so icy as they ran around my neck, but they were. I should have known; it was cold outside and my room was without heating at the time – a new system was being put in place. I blame the winter and it's chills for the events that lead up to his fingers. Would we have been in that position, if it wasn't so cold the night before? If it hadn't been cold since October, when Sirius lead Snape to the shrieking shack, would we have been lead into one another's arms like that?

Not that either of us disagreed in any way; his breath upon my face was comforting, his hands were a wake up call, and his body was a willing support against mine. I didn't open my eyes for a while, afraid that he wouldn't look at me the way I wanted him too. Not that I was in love with him, you must understand, I didn't want to see love in his eyes because love was so confusing…I just wanted to see something more in his eyes than normal. I wanted to see a depth that resonated with me and understood exactly what was happening. 

Perhaps a little far-fetched, perhaps only started by the cold, but it was the ultimate act of validation. His eyes were downcast and needful of someone to just show him that there was something redeemable in him, to prove that fate hadn't taken a wrong turn by having parents who didn't want him shot at the age of four. It just happened that I was the one who he was visiting that Christmas and that my world was relatively stable enough for him to call in a favour from it.

I like to think though, that he realised how that was nothing but a lie to everyone, as behind the peacemaker's calm, cheerful mask was something quite different. Maybe behind the mask was the real James Potter who wanted to shout, scream, cry, laugh, say the wrong thing and make everyone look at him. Maybe James Potter was a rebel in a different way from how most people saw him. He was really a rebel that selfishly wanted attention in the hope that someone would just see him, not just a rebel who made his own school rules because he didn't think the current ones were good enough.

Crushing my body against Remus was just another attention seeking act, a wish to be different for once, rather than being one of the crowd. Or maybe I really was just lusting after the idea of being in love with him. The more the world changed, and the more morals I questioned, the more Remus had become important to me…I felt like I was being slowly drawn into the trap of a spider who had disguised itself with sugar spun webs and whilst those were tempting, it was the spider underneath it all that was really fascinating. Because the spider was terrifying, but beautiful and careful too. 

We had both left Sirius and Peter at school over the holidays, with terse warnings to not try and kill one another whilst we were gone. The warnings weren't even humorous – Peter had lost his faith in Sirius and that had been driving Sirius crazy and the last time that happened… we both should have stayed at school to referee the slanging matches, but I decided that I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be by myself…or with Remus, just Remus. 

Remus has brown eyes. I noticed that when I finally lifted open my own eyes to have them snap straight into locks with mine. They should have looked stupid on such pale skin, they should have stood out, but they didn't…they just meld perfectly into the tired bruises around his eyes. His pale skin against someone else would have looked deathly too, but it wasn't someone else – it was my equally pale flesh, equally shut out from the sun as his was. For different reasons though – Remus has scars covering him and whilst he isn't bothered by them, the large tooth marks ripping down his arm would probably give away that he was a werewolf. As for me…I was just skinny – too skinny and nobody likes to look at a bunch of bones wondering around. It's embarrassing to be standing in a sleeveless top next to other people, my quidditch friends, Sirius who are much more muscled than I am, and have a tan. I brought that one upon myself though.

Pale skin isn't necessarily unattractive though, not on Remus at least. It's otherworldly – a hard to place tone that's innocent and yet…so dirty at the same time. Because Remus is far from innocent. Just like me. We're both the sort of people who everyone thinks are squeaky clean, but really we're just as bitter, sour, twisted and tainted as the rest. We just happen to have pale skin.

"James…"

"Hmmm."

"I'm a werewolf."

And it's only then that I realised how tightly those ice cold hands were gripping onto my shoulders, nails short and bitten, desperately trying to claw into me. 

"And I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"No, I'm a werewolf."

"And I'm the devil who hides under your bed."

He paused for a moment, head bowed away from me, before turning to my ear and whispering words that are entirely too bitter.

"And do you think that the devil is immune to me?"

From where I'm standing, this is the crux of Remus's life. He can never get over himself to see that 'werewolf' is just a label. It isn't the be all and end all of his life, he isn't defined by what he becomes once a month any more than I'm defined by what I look like when I sleep at night. Anyone can look innocent without falling asleep, just as anyone can be a beast when the moon is not full. 

And maybe that's the crux of my life. 

For one day a month I become the innocent one, the saviour of a beast and a fun companion. For the rest of the days I'm the beast itself. The devil isn't immune to any savage bites from a wolf, but it would certainly make no difference to who he was. Except he'd call himself something else. Werewolf.

"No…but I think he doesn't care." 

His hands slid off of my shoulders, his body moved away from me. Maybe his hands had been cold, but without that support my own body felt oddly chilled and isolated. Who cared that his hands were cold? They were still hands, a part of his body and they could touch me without being burnt. Because I let Remus do that without any of the consequences that usually went with that sort of behaviour around me. 

I wanted the hands back on me. 

"Remus…" It was a faint plea really.

"I don't think you really understand do you?"

At the time I didn't really know why I couldn't answer him back in the same cocky sort of voice that I answered everyone back with. Of course I understand, he wouldn't have liked what I understood, but I understand that he can't get over himself. That was the whole point after all. If there was a point at all… But I couldn't tell him. Remus has a way of silencing you without even trying, in fact, he doesn't even know how to do it, it just happens. He would have been a good prefect if he'd actually leant how to execute this power, but it only seemed to come into action when he was at his most morbid. Maybe he just couldn't care about schoolwork as much as we all thought he did. 

"If I bit you, that would be it. How do you know that I wouldn't lose myself and become uncontrollable?"

It seemed unlikely at the time that Remus would ever lose control. 

"I don't care."

Because I just wanted him. I didn't care if he bit me at all, or became uncontrollable. He could do to me whatever he wanted to me, leave _me _helpless and weak for once, leave _me _crumpled on the floor bleeding. 

"I do."

"So?"

The silence was thick and suffocating. Not that Remus seemed to notice that at all. He just kept tugging his hair through his hand, pulling random strands out and staring at them before blowing them away. Then repeating the process. I just tried to stop myself from walking straight over to him, kissing him and bending him to my own will. Not that this was ever a sexual fling. 

At least he never thought it was. 

"So." 

So, that was all the thinking he had to do to return to me again. Despite the way I'd just brushed away his feelings about what we both knew was going to happen. It was like we'd set the time on a clock – eat dinner, pretend to loose something, have sex. Remus was much warmer this time though, his breath was more ragged, his mouth pressed harshly up to mine, hands that were gently tugging through his own hair a moment ago, now yanking at mine, making my head tilt from the pressure. 

And then he did something unexpected. He bit down on my bottom lip. Hard enough for it too swell later on, hard enough to leave me sore, but just lacking the extra force to draw blood. If it was meant to make me push him away it didn't work. 

"You really don't care…" His words were shocked, but quietly mumbled into my shoulder. 

And maybe that's when he realised what I was getting out of it. Remus was being validated, Remus was basking in the sensations that meant that someone out there cared about him enough to sleep with a werewolf. But I wasn't there for some cheap thrill.

"Do it."

"What?"

"Do it…you were going to…"

His head had quickly shot up so his eyes pierced mine.

"How could you say that?"

"Remus, please – just do it!"

"James –"

"I don't care! I told you I don't care!" 

I must have become hysterical. I must have started to scare the hell out of my friend. He punched me, just missing my right eye. Then he kissed me. Shutting me up and providing a welcome distraction to the way in which I'd all but begged him to turn me. If he noticed that my eyes were glassy, with hot un-shed tears he didn't ever tell me, something for which I'm glad. 

'Big boys don't cry, James Potter'. Especially those who make others cry with ease. 


End file.
